


Cursed!

by pushkin666



Category: Starsky & Hutch
Genre: Angst, Cliche, First Time, M/M, They must have sex to break a curse
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-09-27
Updated: 2015-09-27
Packaged: 2018-04-23 16:17:02
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,230
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4883464
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/pushkin666/pseuds/pushkin666
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Hutch had been a glorious sight, coming apart under Starsky’s hands, but this was better, slower, more like Starsky had always imagined it would be. How he had wanted it.</p>
<p>Starsky & Hutch fall under a curse.  The only way to break the curse is to have sex with each other.  Cliche cliche *g*</p>
            </blockquote>





	Cursed!

**Author's Note:**

> Written as part of the Broadstairs Bacchanalia writing challenge where we all wrote a fic to a randomly picked fandom (Starsky & Hutch), prompt (mine was 'cursed! The only way to break a curse is to have sex with each other.') and a Loveheart phrase which needed to be included. My Loveheart said 'spoil me'.

The sweat gleamed on Hutch’s neck as he threw back his head and groaned. Starsky had already wrung two orgasms from him and was on his way to a third. This was not how their day was supposed to have panned out. 

They’d meant to have been relaxing; a weekend break away from the mean streets of Bay City. Instead, they’d wandered into some hippy shop where Hutch had jokingly bought Starsky a necklace comprised of a leather pouch, some crystals and a shark’s tooth. 

“You spoil me Hutch!” Starsky had joked, slipping the necklace over his head. Truth be told it was fucking ugly but he couldn’t resist Hutch’s smile as he’d handed it over.

Now though he wishes he had, that he’d told Hutch to put the necklace back, that they’d left the shop and gone for a quiet drink instead. Because as Starsky had placed it around his neck, as the pendant touched his skin, a bolt of energy and heat had gone through him. The proprietor of the shop had given them both a sly smile and told them that the necklace would bring them what they’d always desired. Starsky had wanted to wipe his hands clean of the oiliness of the smile or punch it right from the man’s face. Instead, he’d watched Hutch pay and then they’d left quietly. 

Problem was that as the afternoon wore on he couldn’t help but notice Hutch more; the way his partner moved, how he sounded when he laughed. The heat that had started in the shop began to grow stronger.

By the time they’d tucked themselves into a darkened bar in the local quarter it was all Starsky could do to stop himself from reaching out and touching Hutch, stroking his arm. He wanted nothing more than to see his partner naked in his bed; Hutch’s golden skin bared to his gaze. Starsky’s jeans were extremely uncomfortable and all he could think about was fucking Hutch. It wasn’t a new thought but it was rare that it had this ferocity and violence to it. It didn’t help that Hutch was returning his heated glances with ones of his own. It was then that the barman, leaning in to serve their drinks, noticed Starsky’s necklace and let loose a stream of words that he didn’t understand.

“You,” he said to Starsky, reverting to English. “You be cursed! This,” he poked at the necklace with his index finger and Starsky jolted back. “You, the two of you. You must fuck to break the curse.”

Hutch laughed, the sound wild, and Starsky cringed at the words. “You’re mad,” he said. “Mad!”

The man shook his head. “You be feeling it,” he said. “The curse. The heat. You must stop it.” And then and there Starsky remembered the smile of the shop keeper, the amused way he’d looked at them. There was also no denying how he’d been feeling all afternoon. How he felt now.

“You,” the man said again, pointing at Starsky. “You do this before you lose control. That is a bad bad thing to happen.”

And Starsky knew what he meant. All afternoon his attention had been focused on Hutch; wanting to touch and taste, to bite at that golden skin, to mark it up, his mood getting progressively more possessive. He believed the man and he knew in his heart of hearts that if they left this much longer he’d bend Hutch over the nearest available surface and fuck him whether Hutch wanted it or not.

He took a mouthful of his cold beer and met his partner’s gaze. Hutch’s returning look was heated and Starsky shifted slightly, trying to ease the pressure against his hard cock.

“You believe him don’t you,” Hutch said incredulously, shaking his head slightly. “Jesus Starsky!”

“Tell me you don’t feel it,” Starsky responded. “Tell me you don’t want it. If you can honestly tell me you’ve felt nothing this afternoon then I don’t know, there’s something wrong with me. I’ve eaten something to make me feel like this.”

He didn’t want it to be true, didn’t want to believe whatever hoodoo the shopkeeper had hoisted on them. Starsky wanted this feeling for Hutch to be his own, not caused by some external object.

Hutch dropped his gaze. “I can’t,” he said quietly. “Can’t lie Starsky I…” He raised his head, eyes meeting Starsky’s own. “I want you,” he said. “Can’t help it. It’s all I’ve been thinking about today.”

Starsky swallowed the anger that threatened at Hutch’s words. If ever they’d been going to take their partnership to the next stage he’d wanted Hutch to want him of his own volition. To be cursed, if the barman was to be believed, was a bitter pill to swallow.

“Come on,” he said standing up. “Let’s get back to the hotel.”

And that’s how they’d gotten here, the two of them naked in his bed. Starsky moved his hips and Hutch groaned again. His legs were spread and Starsky moved slowly in between them, taking his time. The first fucking had been frantic, fast and hard; a way to take the edge off the heat coursing through their bodies. Hutch had been a glorious sight, coming apart under Starsky’s hands, but this was better, slower, more like Starsky had always imagined it would be. How he had wanted it. They were both sweaty and sticky and the ceiling fan lazily moving above their bodies did nothing to stop the heat blanketing the pair of them.

Starsky wrapped his hand around Hutch’s cock and began to move quicker, his hips snapping. 

“More,” Hutch moaned, pushing up to meet Starsky’s thrusts. Complying, he moved his hand on Hutch’s cock, twisting a little to get a response, to see how Hutch would like it. Hutch cried out and clamped down on Starsky’s cock as he came, spilling over his fingers. Starsky slowed for a moment, as he licked at his fingers before leaning in. 

“Taste yourself,” he told Hutch, pushing his fingers into Hutch’s mouth. “Suck them clean.” Hutch took him at his words, sucking greedily at Starsky’s fingers and he groaned, began to move faster and harder, the feel of Hutch’s mouth almost unbearable as he came, his orgasm wrenched out of him, almost painful in its intensity.

Starsky’s fingers slipped from Hutch’s mouth and he leant in and kissed him, tongue pushing as easily into Hutch’s mouth as his fingers had before. Starsky kissed him deeply, chasing the musky taste. 

The necklace banged against his chest as he broke the kiss, leaning back to take in the sight before him. Hutch looked dazed and debauched and Starsky knew that this wasn’t over yet. The heat had eased somewhat but it was still there.

Rubbing his hand over his partner’s chest; his heart, Starsky pulled out of Hutch, eliciting another groan.

“Where are you going?” Hutch asked, his voice low and wrecked.

“Just getting some water,” Starsky answered, pushing up from the bed and heading over to the washbasin in the corner of the room.

He could feel Hutch’s gaze on him and he knew in a short while they would start again.

His mouth twisted. It was everything he desired and yet nothing like it at the same time. Starsky wondered where they would go from here. If there _was_ anywhere to go, after.


End file.
